


How Pain Can Look

by hisuiai



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Pre-Slash, Serial Killer!Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-20
Updated: 2012-05-20
Packaged: 2017-11-05 16:11:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/408409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hisuiai/pseuds/hisuiai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tears slide down pale cheeks and he's not sure what he should be feeling... shame, sympathy, anger? There's no churning in his gut, no lump in his throat, no fire coursing through his veins... </p>
            </blockquote>





	How Pain Can Look

**Author's Note:**

> Not sure if I got the warning right considering I don't think the violence is really graphic, but ah well. Anywho, I have no idea why I wrote this xD;;

Tears slide down pale cheeks and he's not sure what he should be feeling... shame, sympathy, anger? There's no churning in his gut, no lump in his throat, no fire coursing through his veins... instead, there's something else. It's writhing, growing; it's something new, he's sure of it. Whimpers fall from pink lips and he attempts to look less threatening - he's seen his brother do it loads of times... he's seen how it's done - but the whimpers grow louder and the tears keep falling.

He barks out a laugh;  _is this what happiness feels like?_  he wonders.

***

"Dad's on a hunting trip, and he hasn't been home in a few days." He's not concerned, he's never concerned. Dad always handles himself just fine, but never for this long... but it's just an excuse. He never runs out of excuses when it comes to his brother. He attempts a smile, he's good at them... always has been. Jess isn't charmed, and Sam's... Sam he's not so sure of.

"I've got to be back by Monday," he sees Sam frown at his scoff, "Monday, Dean."

_Okay, Sammy, whatever you say_ , he thinks as they arrive at the motel. "I've gotta get a drink."

"What? Now? Dean!" Sammy's voice is just background as something he's likened to anticipation raises goosebumps on his flesh.

This one's blonde, and has long hair like Jess. She's not actually the one he'd meant to pick up, but luck of the draw, here she is. He's not going to say no to ruining one of the things that has kept his brother from him - even if this blonde is a poor substitute. He almost thinks that she screams pretty before Stanford flashes and he's pulling her head further back by her hair and making cut upon cut on her pretty little face.

He returns to Sammy cleaned up and with two beers, he's saying apologies ("I'm sorry, Sammy, I'm just so worried about Dad and..." "It's okay, Dean, I understand.") and the night ends peacefully. 

***

He's almost sure he feels disappointed when Sammy's house goes up in flames - Sammy's dreams go up in flames, Sammy's love, Sammy'sSammy'sSammy's. He tries to talk about it, Sammy always used to... but impatience blurs his words and they're silent for the next hour. He flirts with the waitress at the next diner, and watches Sam jerk awake when he gets back into the car. 

He stares for a while, what would his brother look like if he found out? Would the look of loss, defeat, guilt be the same? Would he deny it? Would he try to fix it? Fixing it sounded like Sammy, but Dean's not sure. They stop at a hotel that night, but he doesn't risk going out. Anticipation itches all over, but he stays on the crappy motel bed and tries to focus on the TV. He can't focus on his brother, can't go outside, can't... Sammy screams and he's there in an instant.

His brother pushes him back, but keeps a grip on his shirt... it's going to be stretched now, he muses, trying to look worried as his brother coughs through what could possibly be a lump in his throat. He moves his hand to grip Sammy's and his brother breaks. Guilt, anger, everything rolls off Sam in waves... he tries to pay attention, making mental notes of the expressions... how helpful you are, Sammy…

His shirt's released after what feels like an eon later, and they both return to bed. Neither of them mention it in the morning.

***

He can't stand the itch anymore, and he's whispering pretty words into a tall man's ear as he cuts patterns into his chest. The man's struggling, but he hasn't been hunting ghosts and poltergeists for years... it's useless. He doesn't make any interesting expressions... but pain can look different on anybody.

Pain can also look like Sammy.

Sammy with his eyes wide and confused.

He's not sure who's pain he's seeing-feeling-seeing, but he hopes it's not his.


End file.
